


"If only we were free to breathe"

by 25_kitkat



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possibly Triggering, Sad, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 02:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13378173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/25_kitkat/pseuds/25_kitkat
Summary: Bokuto struggles with his sexuality and trying to find his purpose in life. He just wants to make everyone happy but its slowly killing him.  His inner struggles and emotional baggage due to his parents and the stress of school start to affect volleyball and his personal life.(Currently just a few drabbles. )





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is still a work in progress. Your comments and thoughts are appreciated.
> 
> Title credit: "free to breathe" By Cold War Kids

Bokuto Koutarou was well accustomed to the feeling of disappointment. It was an everpresent being that filled his head constantly. Voicing all his insecurities, and hurts, in a dark spiral of doubt and self-loathing.

Some days the voice was just a whisper, making a comment here and there, reminding him that he could do better than that and that he needs to stop fooling around. On other days, the voice was a deafening blare, pointing out every misstep and wrongdoing. All his failures and shortcomings collected; repeated again, and again, to make sure he remembered how worthless he was. What a disappointment Bokuto was, Bokuto only making things worse, why are you so stupid Bokuto?  
all his failures, a permanent reminder, that he was not good enough and never would be.

 

The owlish boy with spiky grey hair, and uncontrollable mood swings. The unreliable Captian who had moments of weakness and childish meltdowns. The weird guy with few friends. The one considered an idiot by most of his classmates and teachers. Most of all, in the eyes of his parents, Bokuto Koutarou was a disappointment. A failure....a mistake.

At times his behaviour could be overwhelming. Anxiety bubbling up and spilling out in the form of strange ticks, and quirks, odd obsessions, and overenthusiastic responses.

He tried to control these oddities, squishing them down and bottling them up, but he discovered that the result of doing so made everything much worse, and created a bigger problem. 

Bokuto Koutarou's heart physically ached with the want, the need, to be normal and achieve the expectations placed on him by those around him. Every mistake, every failure and disappointed whisper; chipped away at his soul. Why couldn't he be better? Why was he so stupid? Why was he so loud? Why was he such a fuck up...A mistake? Why?


	2. Chapter 2

He tried. God, he tried so hard.

He knew he had to speak up and explain himself. Let someone. Anyone know.

Confess. Or confide. But…knowing and doing are two different things.

It was like a painful tug, and a vice-like grip, steadily wrapping tighter, and tighter around him.

The need to let someone into the ever-shrinking, suffocating world that was his mind, grew greater every day.

He knew the small group of people he saw as friends, were close to getting pissed and just dumping him.

But he couldn’t let them in, and that was terrifying. The constant feeling of dread and terror that consumed his every thought, was growing to a suffocating proportion.

But the weight of this monster…this demon was too much to carry.

So instead of reaching for help, he let the burden drown him.  
He stopped texting. He ignored them. Sinking farther into his poisonous habits of isolation, and self-destruction.

It would be better if he just disappeared. The voice taunted. Sneering at his patheticness. Such a weak, pathetic excuse for a man...for a friend...a son. 

Fade away, till all that’s left of you is the whispering ghost, of a flickering memory. The voice taunted. A shadow of their past, that fades away, the bright potential of their futures all that remains.


End file.
